


Live

by nowherenew



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Already-Dead Main Character, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Huerta Memorial Hospital, Hugs, Mass Effect 3 spoilers, Other, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowherenew/pseuds/nowherenew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard isn't ready to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR MASS EFFECT 3!

Thane dies in a hospital bed, refusing to wear his oxygen mask. Thane dies with the words of prayer in his ear and in his mind. Thane dies hearing the two people he loves most in the world, reading from his oldest possession. Thane dies from a stab wound he predicted would be inflicted. Thane dies for the galaxy he knows will be saved. Thane dies knowing that his son has forgiven him, and that the woman he loves will live.

Shepard isn’t ready to live.

The lobby of Huerta Memorial Hospital is full of frantic doctors, sobbing loved ones and coughing patients-to-be. It’s as though nothing _happened_. It’s as though good men didn’t give their lives for the safety of the fucking Council. It’s as though innocent women weren’t shot by Cerberus troops just for being in the way. Shepard makes her way over to the armchair in which Thane had so often reclined. She needs time; she needs familiarity. Sometimes, even Commander Shepard just needs to sit down and look at an empty chair, pretending like a child that it’s still occupied by a man with enough wisdom to know that he’s ready to die.

Thane may have been ready to go, but Shepard didn’t think enough about it. During the entire mission with Cerberus, Thane hadn’t seemed frail in the slightest. He had been tough, strong-willed, and effective. Shepard had allowed herself to forget that Thane was dying. Taking a seat against the large glass window, her back to the Presidium, Shepard laughs bitterly into her knees. He’d informed her from the very first that he wasn’t going to live long. She _knew_ that. She just didn’t think of it enough for it to sink in.

Ignoring the stares and whispers from the few people in the lobby who aren’t in agony or unconscious, Shepard drags her nails over her scalp, taking short, ragged breaths. Thane is gone. Thane is _dead_ , and he’s not coming back. She feels warmth from her side, then a hand on her arm. Tali.

“I should have been faster,” Shepard whispers, head still firmly tucked between her knees. “If I’d gotten to that bastard sooner, then Thane, he’d still…” She trails off, trying to even her breaths.

Tali’s gloved palm slides over Shepard’s back. “No, Shepard,” she replies softly, rubbing Shepard’s back slowly. “You couldn’t have done anything. Thane wouldn’t have…” Tali falls silent, considering her next words. “He might not have lived for very much longer, you know. I think he knew that. He wanted to help you, no matter how sick he was.”

Shepard shudders, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She gasps softly, still almost hysterical and breathless. She shakes her head. “He’s dead, Tali. I watched him _die_.”

“And you will watch many more as they die, Shepard.” Tali’s gentle hand curled around Shepard’s far shoulder, pulling her into Tali’s arms. “He once told us that he wanted to make this galaxy a little brighter before he left it. Remember?”

Shepard nods, biting her lip and leaning into Tali’s warm shoulder. She does remember. The sun’s gloriously orange light was cast into the skyscraper; it had almost blinded her when she had tried to look at Thane for the first time. He was praying, mumbling inaudible phrases over a lifeless asari. She’d hold that moment close to her heart for the rest of her days.

Upon hearing Tali’s voice, Shepard snaps back to the present. “If you ask me, Shep, he probably thought— _thinks_ —that you are the brightest thing he could give to the galaxy. He protected you because I think he knows how vital you are to this fight.”

Shepard clenches her jaw, biting her lip viciously. She can feel her lower lip trembling, and she cannot cry. Not here. Too public, too surrounded. She can’t. She grabs Tali’s hand and squeezes her three fingers tightly. “I miss him,” she rasps, unsure of her ability to speak without breaking down.

Tali looks down at Shepard, and maybe she’s smiling under that helmet. She rubs her thumb along Shepard’s hand and replies gently, “He’s not gone, Shepard. He’ll never really be gone.”

“People say that,” Shepard begins, almost snapping crudely in her grief, “but fuck, Tali, I’m not a golem. I can’t snap back from this like so many other things. He died in a _hospital bed_ , not a battlefield. It’s…it’s _different_.” She shakes her head, laughing loudly and hollowly. “If I were really his guardian angel, I wouldn’t have let him die.”

“It’s not your fault, idiot,” Tali mutters. “He didn’t need your protection. He didn’t want it. He wanted to make sure you lived.”

Shepard sighs, and they are silent for a long while.

An asari nurse brings a doctor a datapad, which is read with haggard eyes, then discarded with a low curse.

A red-headed human man sobs in relief when his young son is escorted from intensive care with an ear-splitting, toothy grin and a cry of “Daddy!” as the boy almost leaps from his wheelchair.

A salarian doctor delicately pats a wailing human woman on the back—it’s the third time in an hour he’s broken the news to a new widow.

The lobby becomes more crowded, then silent with the heaviness of fear and anticipation.

Shepard shifts against Tali, and notices Garrus has joined them. She grins crookedly when he gets his talons stuck while trying to soothingly pet her hair. She straightens her legs, showing her face for the first time in hours. Tali rubs her shoulder again, leaning her head against Shepard’s cheek. Garrus manages to pat Shepard’s knee, awkwardly folding into a sitting position. Shepard closes her eyes, and does not imagine Thane in the now-empty chair.

Garrus’ mandibles flutter, as though he is about to say something. He doesn’t, though, and instead looks into his lap, picking at his armor. After a few moments, he looks at Shepard, whose eyes are still closed. “Hey,” he says, almost laughing at his own failure to be a friend when Shepard really needs someone. “Shep, my mother died five months ago.” He holds up a hand when Shepard reaches for his arm, mouth hanging open in sorrow and horror for his situation. “No, I’ve said my goodbyes. I’m not looking for pity, Shep. I want you to know that losing someone who you love…it can’t ruin you. Let it improve you.”

Shepard looks into Garrus’ eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She nods shortly, but Garrus shakes his head. “It’s not something you can just agree to right now. I know you’re angry, and it hurts. Trust me, I know. But listen, Commander; you can’t let yourself be down about this. You’re going to save the fucking galaxy, Shep. We all know it. Thane knew it, too. My mom was dying for years, and I wish I’d done so many things, but it’s too late now. I don’t think about what could have been. Neither will you. You’ll remember him, and so will we. Thane won’t be forgotten. You just have to remember what he died for.”

Shepard stares at Garrus, the corners of her lips turning upwards slightly. “Yeah,” she croaks, then coughs and repeats, “yeah. I know. I will.” She looks to Tali and hugs her tightly, not saying a word. Tali returns the gesture, patting Shepard comfortingly. Shepard rests a hand on Garrus’ forearm, looking up at him. She doesn’t smile, but he knows exactly what she means. His mandibles flare slightly, and he rests a hand over hers.

When Shepard finally stands and heads for the elevator, Kolyat is leaning against the wall by the exit. He looks at her, and she can tell that he’s been immersing in many memories of his father. His gaze is too focused, just like Thane’s when he’d relived several consecutive memories. Shepard raises an eyebrow at him, glad that she composed herself before trying to leave the hospital.

“I want to come with you.” He sounds so much older than this morning, and it’s almost enough to make Shepard take a step back. Almost.

Shepard sees Tali and Garrus share a look beside her, but she steps to the side, facing him directly. She frowns. “It’s dangerous, Kolyat. I really don’t think—"

“If I don’t try to help, I’ll never be able to call him ‘Father’ again without shaming myself,” Kolyat interrupts, and he straightens his back. “If I die, I die. I know the risks. But let me help. He taught me everything I know.” He meets Shepard’s questioning, skeptical gaze with fire and dedication, and Shepard almost loses it because Kolyat is so like his father, but completely different. She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m going to regret this.”

“No, you won’t.” Kolyat smiles, but the expression is lost in a flash, overcome almost entirely by his exhaustion and grief. “I’ll finish what he started. He’d want me to.”

“Would he want me to agree?”

Kolyat grins again, but this time it does not fade. “Like father, like son,” he simply says, and Shepard smiles wistfully.

The doors of the elevator hiss open, and a warm greeting from Avina is ready for the group of aliens. Shepard gestures at the elevator, indicating that Kolyat enter first. “Pack what you need, kid, and come to Docking Bay D-24.”

Kolyat nods, absolutely _beaming_ , and Shepard almost breaks when the elevator doors close again, because she realizes that Thane will never stop giving her anything she may need. Even now, when he couldn’t possibly be behind this, Thane had given Shepard a gift of such tremendous significance that she couldn’t possibly disrespect him by refusing.

Shepard will not allow herself to be lost in grief. Shepard is ready to live. Well, she’s ready to start trying.


End file.
